


The Sound of Music

by xanzpet (gleefulmusings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Humor, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-31
Updated: 2012-03-31
Packaged: 2017-11-02 20:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/xanzpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s incessant bragging regarding his latest one-night stand forces Sam to retaliate in a painful manner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Music

Sam was tired and annoyed, but above all, he was _bored_.

He had been listening to Dean prattle on and on and _on_ about nailing some Huddle House waitress the night before, as if the idea that Dean had yet again determined conclusively that his dick had a function other than urination was a monumental accomplishment. As if his brother didn’t get laid on a regular basis. The dude did more banging than a screen door in a cyclone.  
  
And the girl had been ugly.

No, worse than that. Fugly.

So simian that Sam had fished in his pocket for a few dimes and looked around for an organ grinder. He was so disappointed both _in_ and _for_ Dean. The seas may have choppy as of late, but not so rough that his brother had needed to dock in that particular port, which had probably been classified by the Navy as _friendly_. Dean deserved better; that he had settled for less greatly offended Sam.  
  
Of course, he didn’t say these things. Dean would have just dismissed his criticism as jealousy, and Sam fretted that the charge might have had just a tiny ring of truth to it. So maybe he was a little hard up. So maybe he nicked trial-size bottles of cheap motel lotion to soothe the motion. And maybe he had enough in his duffle that he could have moisturized the whole of Death Valley and still opened a drug store. So what? That was no excuse to abandon all standards.  
  
So when Dean launched into another heartfelt testimonial about diner mid-shift workers who couldn’t get enough anal, Sam decided enough was enough. “Dude, shut the fuck up.”  
  
And, sure enough. “Aw, Cinderdean is back from the ball and his wicked stepsister is jealous.”  
  
Sam snorted. “Yes. I’m incredibly jealous of your ability to seduce girls whose faces belong on iodine bottles.”  
  
“She wasn’t that bad!” Dean protested, a little _too_ much in Sam’s opinion.  
  
“She was worse. I should have called Poison Control. She looked like Mister Yuck, but with jaundice and more facial hair. Now, knock it off, or I promise I’ll make you regret it.”  
  
“Oh, I’d like to see you try, Sammy!” Dean chuckled.  
  
“It’s Sam, and would you really?”  
  
“Give it your best shot,” a smug Dean dared.  
  
Sam turned his head and gave his brother an evil grin. “ _Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens_.”  
  
Dean gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turned white, as he shifted in his seat and straightened his back. “Oh, you _bitch_ ,” he breathed. “I fuckin’ hate you!”  
  
Sam’s eyes narrowed and the grin became maniacal. “ _Bright copper kettles..._ ”   
  
And then he stopped.  
  
Dean growled low in his throat but said nothing.  
  
Sam waited several long minutes, occupying his time by buffing his nails on his worn jeans and mentally lamenting his brother’s sad, pathetic taste in music, making a note to slip in at a later date a collection of Britney’s worst hits for further fraternal torture. He heard Dean panting, but ignored it.

He was sure that his brother was shooting him agonized, pleading looks every few seconds, and Sam basked in his well-earned triumph. After another two miles, he decided to do the kind thing and shoot Old Yeller.

“Go ahead,” he drawled. “You know you’re dying to.”  
  
Dean sucked in a breath. “ _...andwarmwoolenmittens. Brownpaperpackagestiedupwithstring. Theseareafewofmyfavoritethings!_ ” He forced all the words out in one exhalation and then sagged with the effort. “You fucker,” he angrily whispered.  
  
“You really wanna take it there?”  
  
“Oh, you bet your flat ass I do, Sammy,” was the seething response.  
  
Sam sighed. This was going to hurt him as much as it would his brother, but he would be strong. He was a hunter. He was a Winchester. He was possibly a demon. He began humming.  
  
“No,” a horrified Dean, recognizing the tune, murmured. “ _ _Please__ no. _Please?_ Sammy?”  
  
Curling his hands into fists, Sam steeled himself for what he was about to do, and started to sing.

“ _It’s a world of laughter, a world of tears..._ ”


End file.
